A Nagging

I'm suppose to
be tired
I can feel it
tugging at my
head
A far off thought
Lost in the complex network
that is brain.

My body is
tired
Sagging, unmoving
falling into my mattress under my covers
But my mind
is
Wind awake
and spinning
around in rectangles
just like the stars
the ones that are
Always
Awake.

Not Running Away

The moment of freedom.
For a split second it's all
there is
Then the wind is
stretching the skin of my face
arms, legs, body
it sneaks it's way
under my
glasses, stinging
my eys

All I hear is the
pat-pat-pat
of my feet against the soft dirt
the backround sound
comes as a haze
a slurring blur
of twittering crickets,
humming birds and belching
toads
as they
sit on the dampest
leaves, staring into nothing
looking at everything
all at once

The taste in my mouth is of
sweat
and I resist the urge to
clomp my jaw together
to gnaw my tongue raw
To taste that sweet rusty
blood in my mouth

My legs
are pumping, straining, on fire,
hurting, but I
keep going
my arms are pumping
back and forth
creating rhythm
they end with small, tight fists
knuckles white, skin thin

And suddenly
I'm stopping
walking over the uneven path
Taking slow, painful breaths
as my heart
flys out of my
chest with every bump-
bump-bump
Once breathing and thinking
are able to
be done simultaniously
I do it again

I run
away
No,
Towards.

Cinderella Falls

I am upside down
In my own head
I close my eyes
feeling them
scan the letters
words
phrases that turn to
sentences
paragraphs
pages
chapters soon
books that create
shelves in
librarys
and back to letters
My fingers already
ready to turn
the soft, musty
yellowing paper
Before my eyes
are halfway down the page
before my thoughts a quarter

I am anxious
to see what
happens
Never wanting
it to end

I know it's late when
I take a
peek
at the stiff, red
numbers
Four numbers
It's tomorrow
and I imagine
Cinderella
each story different
as she
Tumbles down the stairs
as the clock
Strikes

You know the feeling?
When it's 1AM
and you can't sleep
When it's 11PM and you're still
scribbling in your red notebook
under the cover,
hidden
Just one more thought and
BAM it's down
The thing you made up running
through the woods
is on paper
Though it seemed better
in your head
In the saftety of it
softly hummed between
your lips.

A Hot Day

The moisture hange in
the air like a
blanket draped ever your
shoulders, covering you fave
muddling your non productive thoughts
only this you cannot throw off.

The hammok clings to my sweaty skin
Blue, red, green, black
strips woven together
creating a mysterious pattern
to that never seems to have began
nor that wants to end
One foot on top
one gently swaying
creating a rythm
on the cool, tile floor.

The ceiling is boring
orange,
cannot figure out the plain substance
in which it is
I look to the side
outside
The soft rolling mountains covered with trees
save one bare,
pale spot on top
loo like little pebbles covered with moss
Up close the true variety of trees is staggering.

The smell is unidentifiable,
it's plain but fresh
like forest and life and trees and fruit
rotting fruit and bugs and more life.

I hear the rushing of the forceful river
below
Some one has somewhere to go,
carrying, pushing
sticks and logs and bugs and fish and
dirt
Birds chatter
louder and louder
different pitches
combine in your punding head
as one
blinding sound.

You are.

Peaking,
a shy child in trouble
behind her mother's skirts
The rainbow of light reflects
on the pale, blue clouds
Some fluffy; torn up pillows
Others straight; blades tearing through the klidoiscope sky
carefully fading from the glowing night
savor it
soaking it in like a sponge does water
a fly salt
a bee honey
roots, dirt
You feel as though your in a dome
a dome of love
fear, tears, happiness, cruelty, hope and imagination
and you are
In your own spiderweb way.

A Crying Rainbow

Before falling on my nature covered
window it had
a journey
Before it splattered on the thin glass
like a mini parachute
it fell
all the way from the gray clouds that hang in the air
like worn, ripped, low hanging jeans

Behind the living, towering trees
and the miles of city and people and animals and
stories and thoughts I can only know is all there
the sun is calm
settling somewhere in Arizona
I can't see it
just a faint pink halo
of light on the
not-so-flat horizon
I imagine a small bob
as if suspened on a rope
hanging
waiting for excitment
big as a quarter
I try not to look at it
but cannot break away
from it's trance

   The rainbow comes
          arching over the whole world like
                  an angel
                        just being itself
                              colors pouring into the sky
                        A small strip of light
                   If heaven was anywhere I
           think I might like
    for it to be above a rainbow
                               
                                  on the still
                                  white, happy clouds that
     don't know what to do with their grumpy, sweating
       family that insists on sweating all the time over
                                     the beautiful world
                                              

You Smell

The dull gray
throbs
behind the glow of trees
bringing light to all,
creeping into thin crevices
reflecting on wet leaves
glistening against the old, rusting roof

It makes everything shiny
as you walk on the damp mud
leaves and plants
everything feels so alive,
 refreshed by the gulp they
were so unselfishly given
by the clouds

the green is
Everywhere.
so I take and take a deep
breath with my eyes closed.
you smell,
You smell
I, smell life.

Keep Reading

I sit down,
close my eyes
Take a deep breath.
When I open them my breath is taken away from me
All the books.
it was all of them in the world
Millions.
sitting there, waiting
waiting to be read.
I stand up and slowly
so slowly,
walk up to the closest
bookcase.
Reaching from my feet to the high ceiling.
Millions, all of them in the world.
I slide my hands along the old and new
covers, careful not to disturb them
My eyes are everywhere
trying to take in everything.
I reach for one,
then another
I have a pile of books so heavy
my arms ache
I keep grabbing more and more,
Finally I sit and read.
I read forever.
Keep reading.

I Was Going To

I was going to write a poem about sunsets.
The gigantic fireball
tumbling from the fading day.
I really wanted to.
The tinge of swirls
rising from behind the hill
the deep blue of space creeping down
the crimson, teal, violet and marigold
Sunsets. 
Sunrises.
A day gone by,
a new beginning.
But I couldn't.

If It Was

If it was an aura
       it would be
a rainbow
If it was a rainbow
       it would be
bright and rising high into the sky
If it was the sky
       it would be
clear and blue, an ocean of hope that carries one big, blazing ball of sun
If it was the sun
       it would be
constantly and fiercely shinning fireball that it is
But it isn't.
it is life
Beautiful, glamorous, loving, forgiving, colorful, fun
Amazing
Life

I Took A Walk

The thin, emerald green
bends harshly in the whistling wind
that pushes it about
it dances under the settling
glow of the faraway fireball
lowering for a night of peaceful rest,
after a long day of shining fiercely for all

All alive
Celebrating spring
season of love,
rebirth,
happiness
The beautiful day,
the kind you only find once a year
one you must cherish
warm air,
slight breeze,
clear sky
Green,
everywhere.

In the distance little,
black dots
Imagine them grazing
their whole bodies arching to reach
the too short, delicious, spring grass
swaying in time with the earth and sky
under the afternoon blaze

They seem to grow at the edges
Fences,
closing in
guarding, protecting
though slowly creeping
they rise slowly
closer and closer
 gracefully
Tall and magnificent they stand
glories and strong
A natural apartment building
housing thousands of lives
light green, dark green, mint, jade
the reddish brown of long gone autumn
the bareness of the fading cold

My head turns upward
eyes fluttering against the water-like sky
an endless void of faith and dreams

Stand tall
arms stretched out
breathe in deeply
filling my lungs
till their fit for bursting
trying to imagine
each breath, each molecule
of air
rushing though my body
I close my eyes

Hear the chirping birds
dancing, fluttering, hopping on the rough, dry branches
Smell the aromatic flowers blooming
most just barely buds,
yet standing tall
Taste the pollen in the air
the life in it all

As I try to take in all this beauty
this view
this Essence
I come to a realization
You can't.

You have to interpret each thing as an
individual
only then,
to see it as a whole
as a life
A whole, working together, living life

Tick, tick, tick

tick, tick tick

It ticked
like a clock
without a tock
in steady rythem
keeping us in line
in time

tick, tick, tick

As the music swell around me
the beautiful sound,
melting, dark chocolate
it fills my ears,
my head,
my heart
My whole self
I struggle to hear the
steady beat
always there

tick, tick, tick
Tick.

PRIMAVERA (Spring)

Promising peace

Rising rainbows

Inquiring insects

Marching manarcs

April antics

Vibrating views

Erratic earth

Radicle rainbows

Artistic anvils

We Fight

We fight

Suddenly my gear feels wrong

too tight, too loose

My body is full of adrenaline, running

purely, primitively on instinct

I wait for her to start

In one fluid motion

she steps and make a wild swing

to my abdomen

She hits her target

It's my turn

I kihup loudly

and do two kicks in a row

She backs up and throws a jump

This goes on

Who will win?

Time.

Cold

I step outside
The cold engulfs me
I keep walking
It gets worse
The cold stings and
finds it's way to every part
of my body
Every piece of exposed skin.
I breath in
It hurts
It wants to freeze my lungs
I close my eyes
But keep walking
I finally get inside
After what felt like years of cold
It takes a few moments
For my body to thaw
And get circulating again
Warmth
I dread the moment I'll have to walk out again
It's called Winter.

Writing

Writing.
it's not really simple
to write
You have to
think
feel
be.
You have to
rewrite
again
and
again
Writing isn't just words on paper
it's meaning in words.
Writing is life.

Funny Poems

Why doesn't anyone write funny poems anymore?
Like about apples.

Being

I am
I am no one thing
because I am pieces of everything
of words and meaning
of books and music
I am unique
I am of
art and creativity
of
writing
of everything
I am
I am whatever I want to be

Singing

[cough, cough]
I look over the sheet one more time
I hum the pitch
I breath in
I do it like the worlds ending
I put all my emotion
the words
the meaning
the feeling
the music
I sing and I sing
I scream it out
not caring what I say
Just saying it
I know I'll get it right
I smile
I take a breath...
and do it all again.

Concert

Bright lights blind me
uniform suffocates me
nervouness engoulfs me.
She steps onto the podium,
rest position.
She brings her hands up,
play position.
The first note.
The music flows out of me like
an overflowing glass,
I can't hold it in.
The sound mixes and melts together
like rich chocolate.
It's beautiful,
it's done.